


Shadows

by themonkeycabal



Series: Run 'Verse [15]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Fic Interlude, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonkeycabal/pseuds/themonkeycabal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A map formed in his mind, the lines of Hydra's long reach spanning the globe. One by one he categorized each location, each black spot, from least likely to most. All the places they could hold her and all the places they would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Going backwards again. Sorry!
> 
> This is the long promised interlude story -- Bucky and Steve POVs when Darcy was kidnapped by Hydra in chapter 8 of "Ain't Gonna Drown".

A spring thunderstorm rumbled in the distance, an angry murmur above the rush of cars on the street. He'd opened his window an inch or two on a fleeting thought that begged for light and air in the dim, claustrophobic apartment. The sky above the city was stagnant, humid and heavy with dirt and exhaust, but he could smell the dusty wet scent of rain. 

Another rumble. Closer. For a second, then two, then three, he lost the city, lost the traffic and noise, and heard another rumble. Boom. Boom. Boom. A tempest of sound and chaos that tore the earth in its rage. Artillery in the distance, black smoke. Death marching forward. 

Taking a deep breath, James Barnes turned away from the window. He should call her. When the screams got too loud, it helped to hear another voice. 

Dropping onto his musty, lopsided couch, he pulled out his phone. The one she gave him with no strings attached, no tracker, the only price she asked that he call. 

Staring at the phone, he ran a silver thumb over the smooth face of the device. Then, caught by the sight of his own false limb, he turned his hand over and considered the metal lines across his palm. She'd taken his hand in hers. He could still feel the warmth of her fingers running over those lines. He could still feel the gentleness in her grasp. He could still see the pain and rage in her eyes. For once it wasn't directed at him; the pain and rage _for_ him. 

Darcy Lewis was a damned mystery. 

After they met, he spent a day wondering if she was real at all, or if she was just a hazy dream in the swirl of his mind. He'd wondered if she was simply a hope that somebody somewhere would someday forgive him. Then he found the paper with her looping scrawl, her number, her name, in his jacket pocket. He held onto it like a lifeline, a link to something solid, until the paper became soft and worn. 

Even with confirmation that she was no figment of his foggy, hazy mind, he puzzled over her. Knowing what he was, knowing what he'd done, how did she sit down with him? How did she hold his hand so gently? With the weight of all those searching for him, why did she stand against them and keep her word to him time and again? Only days after he'd torn SHIELD apart, her agency, she sat with him. She never blinked and never shied away from him. Instead she reached out to him and he found himself reaching back. 

Running his hand down his torso, he poked at his side. The wound from Estonia was gone, healed, only a fading pink scar left, and in another week even that would disappear. Another story, another memory, erased from his skin. She'd refused to leave him, she'd pushed and pulled and nagged and pressed her weight on the wound, holding him together. Then she brought him right into SHIELD's hands. 

He'd been too tired, too hurt to refuse her, but he didn't trust them. He waited for guns, rough hands, and shouted commands. But, she made him promises, and SHIELD kept them. He'd be damned if he knew how she did it. 

Or maybe he did know. That big personality, that stubbornness, that goddamned certainty she was always right. Her crazy, extraordinary loyalty that demanded loyalty in return. If she gave her word, then others better damn well keep theirs or there'd be hell to pay. The Director of SHIELD didn't come pick them up because of a broken old assassin, he came for her. He felt the heaviness of Agent May's warning that he'd regret it if he hurt her. He saw the others accept him because _she_ did. They were afraid, they were curious, but they patched him up, and cleaned him up, and gave him clothes and food. Then they let him walk away. Because she asked them to. 

Darcy Lewis was baffling. But, she was steady. He clawed and fought for some sort of sanity, for each and every one of the thin ropes of memory he could pry free from the chaos in his head. Some days it was too much, and it would be all too easy to let himself drown. And then she'd be there. Every time his head got light and he slipped, she was there. There at the other end of a phone call, there in California, there in Estonia, here in this apartment when he couldn't reach the wounds on his back. She wouldn't go away, and he couldn't bring himself to make her. 

She was loud, she was brash, and she talked too much. And she wasn't afraid of him. She'd yell at him and laugh at him. She'd tend his wounds — bitching the whole time — and she'd make sure he ate. And all the while she gave him pieces of her life. Did she know how dangerous that was? To give that information to an assassin? Ah hell, she was smart, she could say she was green all she wanted, but, maybe she did know. She bound him to her and wouldn't let him fall. 

But what if the weight he was carrying was too much? What if he pulled them both down? He didn't want to do that, he really didn't want to do that. She deserved better. 

Thunder rumbled again and the hell of his past crashed along with it. He shoved aside his doubts, lifted the phone and called up her number. 

"Hello? Darcy?" a woman's voice answered the call. The wrong voice.

He frowned and the mad chaos in his mind stilled, concentrated on this one point: that was Darcy's phone, but that was not Darcy. "Who is this?" he growled. 

"Who is _this_? Where is Darcy?" the woman demanded, an edge of hysteria in her voice. 

He stood up and paced back to the window, looking through the peeling paper. Fingers twitching for a gun or a knife, he took a deep breath. 

"Bucky? Is this Bucky Barnes?"

The wind finally picked up, pushing through the still apartment. He felt the cool brush against his still flesh arm. "Who is this?" 

"This is Jane Foster. Darcy's boss. Is this Bucky? Tell me this is Bucky."

Stillness shuddered and failed. He knew Foster from Darcy's stories. Why was she … ? "Yes."

"Thank God," Foster sobbed, a small cry of relief. He didn't remember anybody being relieved to hear his voice. "She's missing. Darcy's missing."

Another sort of coolness fell over him. The Soldier's winter. "When?"

"Two days ago. I didn't know how to reach you," Foster said, almost accusing. "I've been waiting. She didn't put your number on her phone. She, God, she wrote a program to mask it on the network. Jarvis has been trying—"

He cut her off. "What happened?"

"Director Coulson thinks it was Hydra." Foster took a deep breath. "She was driving upstate, her car was forced off the road. We got a call from the State Police when they found the car."

His jaw clenched. Did they know about him? Did they know about her? Did they take her because of him? No, they couldn't. He was careful. There were other reasons somebody would grab Darcy. She was a SHIELD agent. She worked with the Avengers. They would have known her, if not who she was. They would want information from her. They would take her somewhere they could take their time. If they were watching her, they'd know she was close to the Avengers. They wouldn't want to be found. They had to know somebody would come for her. 

Foster was still talking, but her words were a distant murmur. Until she yelled. "Bucky!"

"I'll find her," he said. 

"Wait, you … God, you need to call in." Foster ordered, her voice rising almost to a shout. "You need to call Steve. If you had, if you … maybe she wouldn't … God, you have to—"

"I'll find her," he repeated. 

He disconnected the call and picked up his weapon trunk, tossing it onto the couch. As he sorted his gear, he let himself fall into that spinning chaos in his mind, drifting from moment to moment as he thought of every place he'd ever been, every facility he knew, every memory of Hydra he had, no matter how grim. He pulled every thread, and he followed them to every bleak, gray bunker or gilded room. 

A map formed in his mind, the lines of Hydra's long reach spanning the globe. One by one he categorized each location, each black spot, from least likely to most. All the places they could hold her and all the places they would. 

There was enough Bucky Barnes left that he shoved his tactical clothes into a duffle next to his rifle rather than wear them out the door. Darcy would tell him to be subtle. He paused as feral rage swept through him, the muscles in his arms, in his jaw, quaking and trembling with it. 

Darcy Lewis was a lot of things, and maybe he'd never understand her. But, in the confused surge of memory and thought in his mind, there was a solid, steady mooring. One of the places where what was left of James Barnes was tethered. That was Darcy Lewis. And in her strange, crazy smart brain, she'd decided he was worth holding onto. 

She'd made promises to him. Now, he would make promises to her. 

He'd find her and he'd kill them all. 

***

Steve ducked a two-by-four, kicked out at the guy swinging it, then watched him hit the wall with a thud. He turned to his next target and let out a long, frustrated sigh. For nearly a week they'd been looking for Darcy. Six long damned days. 

Tony was almost completely out of his mind by day two, and now, with each passing day, he was more and more frayed, his temper more and more volatile. The only thing that seemed to be keeping him even a little bit sane was the string of Hydra facilities Director Coulson was able to identify and point them at. If Tony could punch something or blow something up, it kept him steady for a few hours. Of course, they'd hit three Hydra sites already, with nothing to show for it, and each time they walked away empty-handed … 

They were all feeling ragged, but Steve was starting to really, really worry about Tony. His skin looked gray, sickly, and he probably hadn't slept for more than a few hours over the course of the week. His fear and rage growing moment by moment. Bruce just glanced at him sadly and stuck close, even as he looked like he realized he probably shouldn't be anywhere near anger that fierce. 

Pepper was doing the best she could to keep Tony even, but, geez that was a hell of a tall order. Fortunately for _her_ sanity, she had some help from Darcy's mom, who flew out the day after Darcy went missing, and was pretty good with Tony. The two woman could usually calm him down, speaking rationally about what he needed to do, how he needed to stay focused, how his rage wouldn't save Darcy. Plus, in addition to the Hydra locations, Director Coulson sent the two of them some backup by loaning out Agent May, who never hesitated to yank Tony back if he was going too far. She was a lot less gentle than Pepper or Rebecca, but sometimes the barked command to 'get the hell back to work' worked better than attempts at rational calming. 

Thor left long enough to enlist the aid of Asgard, to set their watcher watching for her, but he was back the next day, ready to dive in with the rest of them. Darcy, he said, was near enough to being Jane's sister, she was family, he would be where he was needed. And, in addition to Asgard, Tony's old friend Colonel Rhodes dropped in long enough to get information before going back out — the Air Force would be looking, too. Sam Wilson, still not quite used to the superheroes, went along with Rhodes to pull any military contacts he had, too. 

Clint and Natasha were quiet and focused. They worked with May analyzing intel from SHIELD and other sources. Steve didn't ask how they got to those other sources. Right now, he didn't care. Every now and again he caught a grim, tight look on Natasha's face, or a cold, distant stare in Barton's eyes. Both were chilling in their own ways. 

Steve was having a hard enough time keeping his own spirits up. It might have been six long days, but it was _only_ six days, he reminded himself every time his own fear built. They were nowhere near out of options. Now it was a matter of working down the list of locations, he and Tony alternating, and praying every time that this one would be the one. 

Steve didn't feel great about Tony leading a team, but since it was Thor and Banner, and they were the two best able to stand up to Iron Man, he didn't argue. The smart thing might be to bench Tony, but Steve couldn't bring himself to even hint at that idea. They really didn't need that fight right now. Darcy didn't need that fight. She needed the people who loved her out looking for her, and if nothing else, Tony would always do his best for his daughter. That had to be enough to keep him in check. Right?

They were all trying to keep moving, honestly. To keep looking, keep busy, keep from letting fear and desperation eat away. 

Tonight it was Steve's turn out, the target a compound in a lonely spot in south-eastern Poland near the boarder with the Ukraine. It was a dark night, heavy with clouds, no moon, and an icy, dripping rain that left the air sweet and cold. It was the perfect time to hit. Steve and Natasha provided the distraction, while May infiltrated. 

"Got movement. Roof, building south of you," Barton reported. 

"Can you ID?" Steve asked, grunting with the effort of beating back another pair of Hydra foot-soldiers. 

"Negative."

"May, what's your—" And then he was falling, something taking him out at the backs of his knees. As he hit the ground, he twisted to his back, drawing up his shield defensively. A blur of red and black spun beside him, and she caught herself on his shoulder and joined him in the shelter behind his shield. 

Then a gunshot cracked through the air. Steve kicked himself up into a crouch, looking for the threat. Thirty feet away a large Hydra soldier was sprawled across the muddy tarmac. 

Natasha glanced at him and gave him a little smile. "Sorry, didn't have time to warn you." Her eyes broke away and scanned the rooftops, a pistol ready in each hand. 

"Nice shot." He nodded to the downed man. 

"Wasn't me." She shook her head. "Hawkeye, where's the shooter?"

"Guy's a shadow. I lost him, damn it," Barton grumbled, sounding personally offended. "He was still moving south."

Agent May darted out of the side door to the facility and came to a sliding stop next to them. "We have to move. The place is wired to blow."

"Darcy?"

May shrugged. "Not here now, if she ever was."

"Damn it!" Steve slammed his shield on the ground in an outburst of desperation and frustration.

"How do you know?" Natasha pressed May.

"Barnes set the charges. I recognize them."

"Bucky?" Steve's head came up sharply. "How do you—"

"Later," May hissed through her teeth. "Move now."

"I see him," Barton called out. "Engaged near the fence line."

Steve shot up and was off before the other two agents could move. "May, Widow, get clear. Hawkeye cover them then get yourself out."

"Rogers!" Natasha shouted behind him.

"That's an order, Agent," he yelled back.

Natasha muttered a long string of unpleasantries in Russian that crackled sharply over the radio in his ear. He didn't speak a word of Russian, but he got the idea. 

"We'll clear the fences, swing south," May said. Probably more to Barton and Romanoff than to him.

Steve bowled over another pair of Hydra soldiers, but didn't slow his pace.

Bucky was surrounded by a half-dozen men. He shrugged off two, ducked a head shot from a third, and swung his hand up, knife glinting in the dim light, in a wicked arc, slashing the would-be shooter. 

Leaping up on the hood of a truck, Steve lowered his shoulder behind his shield, and dove into the fight. He batted one man away, flipped his shield in his hand and threw, bouncing it off the concrete and into the face of another man. A third guy he just simply punched. 

Bucky finished with the last two and glanced down at them for a second, before shooting Steve a look. For a long moment they stared at each other. Then a popping sound from somewhere near the center of the compound spurred Bucky into motion. He dashed to the fence and jumped to grab the top, hoisting himself over the concertina wire in a smooth motion. His boots hit the ground with a wet thud, and he paused one the other side, looking at Steve again.

"It's gonna go."

Steve picked up his shield, swung it onto his back, and made his own leap over the fence. Landing on the other side, he straightened up, looking for Bucky, but the man was already darting across the black field away from him, slipping into the shadows. To his left Steve could see two slender shapes running at an angle to intercept. He wasn't sure how that would play out.

"Bucky! Wait," Steve called and finally got his own feet moving. 

The other man jogged a few more paces, then stopped so abruptly Steve almost overshot and gracelessly stumbled to a halt. Natasha and May were almost on them. Steve could see the pistols in Natasha's hands, though May had holstered one of hers. 

"Good to see you again, Barnes," May greeted, her tone easy and conversational, almost pointedly so, and Steve frowned at her. He didn't know May well, but he knew enough to know she wasn't ever _conversational_. But, more than that, how did she know Bucky? For that matter, how had she recognized the charges he set earlier? 

Bucky, for his part, stared blankly for a moment, before finally giving the agent a slow nod. 

Natasha took a couple small steps away from May, angling to one side, clearing her line of sight to Bucky. Steve tensed and held out a hand, silently asking that she stand down. She didn't, but she also didn't make another move. 

Bucky's eyes flickered to her then back to Steve. "She's not here."

"Yeah," Steve said with a tired sigh. "May figured."

Bucky looked to May. "Did you clear your sniper?" There was a low rumble in the air, like distant thunder. 

"He's out," Natasha confirmed, but her voice was tight. 

The rumble grew to a roar and then a ball of flame rose to shake the sky. A second or two later they were buffeted by the shockwave. Steve darted a quick look over his shoulder and back to Bucky, whose eyes were fixed on the exploding compound. 

"Hawkeye?" Steve called, chagrined that for a moment he'd forgotten the sniper. 

"Clear. S'mores? I've got the marshmallows. Who wants in? Nat, you brought the graham crackers, right?"

"Idiot," Natasha grumbled but it sounded more fond than irritated. 

"You need to leave," Bucky said. He might have been talking to all of them, but his eyes were on May. "Locals will be here soon."

"Bucky, wait," Steve said, stepping towards him, even as Bucky took two steps back. "Come with us. We could use your help."

May murmured something under her breath to Natasha. Nat shrugged but still didn't holster her weapons. 

"Steve," Bucky said, shaking his head, and his voice sounding distant, like he was trying the name out. 

May took a step forward, trying to take control and dispel the weirdness of the situation. Her manner was one of brisk, operational efficiency, like she was talking to another agent, and not to a near mythical assassin. "We need to compare notes. Our list of targets with yours. Where we've hit, where you've hit. We'll find Lewis faster that way."

Bucky's shoulders rose and curled forward, like he was bracing for something, and he let out a loud breath through his nose.

Following May's lead, Steve lowered his arms, holding them out from his sides, non-threatening. "You know Hydra better than us."

Bucky's eyes drifted back to the smoking, sparking ruins. 

"This is the fourth place we've looked," Steve pressed. "Come on, Bucky."

Bucky pursed his lips and glanced down and away from Steve. His eyes slid back over to May. "I'll contact the Director."

"Bucky," Steve said, pleading. 

May just nodded, though, and let her gaze drift over each of them before she turned and started away. "Hawkeye, prep the jet, we're on our way."

"So, that's a no to the s'mores?"

Natasha let out a breath and finally put away her guns. "Shut up, Clint."

She gave Bucky a long evaluating look, one that he didn't meet, before she finally turned and jogged off with May. 

Then it was just the two of them. Steve stared at his oldest friend, lost for so long, and Bucky stared at the ground. Then Bucky started walking, away across the field, towards the treeline, and in the opposite direction of the quinjet. 

"Bucky, wait." 

"I'll give the Director my list," Bucky said, but he didn't stop walking. 

"Would you just hold up a second?" Steve darted forward to grab Bucky's arm. Bucky reacted quickly, almost violently, twisting his arm up and over, trapping Steve's arm at the elbow and dropping him to one knee. Then he let go and backed up a step. He watched Steve out of the corner of his eyes. 

"You're always such a goddamned stubborn ass," Bucky mumbled quietly, soft enough that Steve almost didn't catch it over the dull drip of rain. 

Heaving a sigh, Steve bowed his head for a second and stripped the helmet from his head, letting it drop into the mud. He was tired, scared, and his two closest friends were miles away from him, even while one of them was standing right there. He gave himself another second to feel the weight of all that, before shaking it off and getting back to his feet. 

"Buck, come on."

"We're wasting time," Bucky said. 

He took a step towards Bucky. "If you'd just come—"

Bucky held his ground but reached out and gave Steve a hard shove. "Back off," he growled. 

"It's been almost a week. You know every day that passes—"

"Shut the hell up," Bucky spat back at him. 

"Help us find her."

"I said I will, damn it." Bucky started walking again.

Steve firmed up his jaw and jogged after him, but didn't grab him this time, just caught up and walked beside him. Bucky groaned a little and glared at the trees. 

They walked a few paces in silence before Bucky spoke, watching him out of the corner of his eyes. "Surprised she hasn't just taken over Hydra yet."

Steve let himself chuckle a little. "I keep waiting for that call."

"Go back to your team," Bucky said tersely. "I'll call in."

Steve nodded. Damn it, he didn't want to let him walk away again. But, this was another one of those fights that Darcy didn't need right now. "Just so you know, Buck, I'm not going to give up."

Bucky let out a quiet, dry laugh and shook his head. "I'd wonder who the hell you were if you did."

Steve stopped just before the trees and Bucky turned to face him directly for the first time.

"I'll tell the Director to expect your call."

Bucky nodded. "Yeah."

Steve gave him a salute and Bucky stared for another long moment before he turned and disappeared into the trees. When he was out of sight, Steve let his shoulders drop and he turned away, starting the long walk back to the quinjet. 

"May, I'm on my way." 

"Copy."

As he retraced his steps, he bent down to pick up his helmet and tapped it on his thigh as he walked. "You gonna tell me how you know Bucky?"

The transmission was silent for a beat before she asked, "Lewis didn't tell you about Estonia, either?"

"Estonia?"

May let out a hissing, irritated breath. "We'll talk about it on the flight back."

Steve set his jaw and grumbled, "Looking forward to it."

Barton's voice broke in, sounding somehow amused and aggravated at the same time, "She just told us, it's a fun story. Stark's going to hit the flipping roof."

Tipping his head back up to face the sky, he closed his eyes and tried to get the icy rain to wash away the defeat and fear. "Great." 

Darcy and Bucky were going to drive him nuts. But, if they were doing that, then that would mean he'd have them both back safe. 

Maybe they'd have better luck at the next location. Maybe Clint and Nat would find a clue. Maybe Thor's friend on Asgard would spot her. Maybe Darcy really would take over Hydra, or at least talk them out of holding her, and he'd get home to find her standing there, irritating smirk on her face. 

Steve spotted the ramp light on the quinjet and trudged forward. They'd all just have to keep trudging forward. They'd find her. They _would_. And if he told himself that often enough, it just might be true.


End file.
